


Third Time's A Curse

by SatyrSyd37



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Hogwarts Sixth Year, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexuality, Slow Build, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatyrSyd37/pseuds/SatyrSyd37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Potter enters his sixth year at Hogwarts - and this time, he vows things are going to change. He's got his best friend by his side and a mysterious potions textbook under his belt. As Albus and Scorpius attempt to uncover the book’s history, things <i>do</i> begin to change...but it might not be for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cauldron Bubble

**Author's Note:**

> an au where the prince's book was never destroyed in the fiend fyre, which spells TROUBLE for a certain duo
> 
> WARNING FOR HEAVY CURSED CHILD SPOILERS
> 
> i don't know how often updates will be, but hang in there with me, my friends ;)

Visits to Malfoy Manor were always Albus Potter’s favorite part of summer. Ever since first year when Albus and Scorpius became friends, Scorpius had invited Albus to visit him over the break. Although his parents were wary about their son staying with Draco Malfoy at his home, they let Albus have his freedom. For a week, not long before school started, Albus was a guest of the Manor.

At first, Malfoy Manor was a little scary. A _lot_ scary. It was large and dark and looming, all black stone and sharp spires and large, empty hallways. But Albus grew to love the place. He liked to watch the peacocks strut, he liked to explore the myriad of secret hallways and hidden cellars, he liked to climb the complicated architecture when Mr. Malfoy left for work, he liked the silence and the peace. But mostly, he liked it because it was a rare escape from his family, and because he got to see his best friend.

That summer was the hottest summer Albus could remember. Though it was still early in the morning, Albus and Scorpius were already sweating. Numerous cooling charms and magical air conditioning did nothing to abate the heat. The windows were opened to encourage a breeze to fly through. That morning, as the two of them ate their cereal for breakfast, they were not greeted by a breeze, but by two owls with letters attached to their ankles.

The two boys abandoned their cereal and tore open the letters, knowing they held the long awaited results of their O.W.L.s.

Albus had barely looked at his scores when Scorpius peaked over his shoulder.

“Albus, that’s amazing! You got an ‘Outstanding’ in Potions!”

Albus tried to brush off Scorpius’ praise. “Yeah, well, I’m pants at wandwork, so I barely passed any of those courses.”

Scorpius just smiled at him. “But you did pass. Well, expect for Charms...and Divination...but those aren’t important anyway! Albus, I’m proud of you.”

Albus turned away. He hated the way Scorpius could say sappy things like that so casually; it always made his heart skip a beat. “P-please, you got _five_ ‘Outstandings’ and you didn’t fail a single class!”

Scorpius sighed, “Still not good enough to beat Rose, though.”

Albus scowled. Rose, Rose, Rose. Albus was tired of hearing Scorpius talk about Rose. First it was the crush, and then it was besting her in Quidditch (an effort quickly abandoned because Scorpius couldn't balance on a broom longer than five minutes) and now it was beating her in academics. Scorpius was always obsessed with her in one way or another, and it drove Albus up the wall. She was mean to them! ...not so much anymore, but she’d hadn’t done anything to stop anyone else from teasing them. And comparing himself to her made Scorpius feel bad about himself, which was ridiculous because Albus knew Scorpius was absolutely incredible.

“You beat her in one thing, though,” Albus said, wanting to prove to Scorpius how truly amazing he was.

Scorpius perked up. “What?”

Albus smirked. “Rose got her scores before I left. I overheard Mum and Dad talking to Aunt Hermione, and apparently Rose got ‘Oustandings’ in everything - except one subject.”

“Which one?” Scorpius nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement, his eyes burning bright with curiosity.

“History of Magic.”

Scorpius grinned so brightly, Albus swore he went blind for a moment. He leap up out of his chair and shouted, “Ha! I beat Rose Granger-Weasley at something! You hear that world? I beat the Minister’s daughter!”

“Good for you mate!” Albus joined in. He gave his friend a supportive slap on the back. “Told you you were better than her.”

Scorpius settled back down into his chair and shrugged. “It’s only one subject,” he said humbly, though his grin hadn’t yet left his lips. “Honestly, I’m surprised it’s History of Magic. I thought she had a knack for memorizing.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “So do _you_. Besides, who knew everything there was to know about the Triwizard Tournament - two years ago?”

“I suppose that’s me,” Scorpius admitted with a little grin.

“That’s right, it was you. You’re the one who knew enough to navigate us through the past, you’re the one who broke through the Minister’s own puzzle, you’re the one who went through Voldemort’s rule and lived, you’re the one who kept dementors away without even using a patronus - ”

“That was thanks to you!” Scorpius exclaimed. “You’re the reason I got through that one.”

There. He did it again, catching Albus off-guard like that. “W-well you’re the one who was able to get through to our parents more than thirty years in the future, and you - ”

“Alright, alright, I get it! I’m pretty awesome, aren’t I...?” Scorpius’ voice tapered off, and he peeked nervously over Albus’s shoulder.

Albus turned around. Mr. Malfoy stood in the doorway, looking at his son with his eyes wide in astonishment.

“Dad...is - is something wrong?”

Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat and lowered his gaze. “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.” The sallow look on Mr. Malfoy’s face contradicted his words. “Those are your O.W.L.s, correct? Show me how well you’ve done, Scorpius.”

Albus didn’t mind Mr. Malfoy. He knew Mr. Malfoy and his father had a rivalry in the past, and he understood why, but those were his father’s problems, not his. Despite his history, Albus thought Mr. Malfoy was actually a lot like Scorpius; if a little more brash, at times.

Mr. Malfoy joined them at the table as they discussed their scores and which classes they’d be taking next school year. They both had trouble deciding which N.E.W.T.s to go for: Scorpius, because he had so many choices, and Albus, because he only really cared about one class.

His father had told him that his mother - Albus’s grandmother, Lily - had had an affinity for potions. That was the only explanation as to why Albus excelled at that one subject. Neither of his parents had particularly enjoyed potions, but Albus loved it. He liked that it was methodical, that there was a set list of directions to follow. Potions are temperamental, and sometimes don’t turn out the way they should even after following the directions exactly, but Albus hardly ever had a problem figuring out a correction. It was the one area that he could keep up with Scorpius, and he vowed to keep it that way.

Albus enjoyed the rest of his week as much as he could, knowing that school was just around the corner. He didn’t hate school as much as he used to, but he would much rather play with Scorpius in the Manor for the rest of his days. No bullying from other students, no awkward parents or teasing siblings, no worries at all.

“I wish I could stay here forever,” Albus told Scorpius the night before he left, as he was packing up his suitcase. “Just the two of us.”

“I wish you could stay here forever, too.” Scorpius cocked his head and hummed. “Wait, does that mean that people could visit us? Like your family? And Rose? And my grandparents? Would my father still be able to stay here? Because if not, that might not be such a good thing.”

Albus tucked his socks in the side of his trunk and turned to him. “Why not?”

Scorpius frowned. “Wouldn’t you miss everyone else? You have a big family, it’d be horrible never to see any of them again. Even if some of them are a bit annoying.”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t miss them that much.”

“But - ” Scorpius stopped himself. “Nevermind. I know how you are when it comes to your family. But, but what about a girlfriend? If we were trapped here forever, you’d never be able to find yourself a girl.”

“If I was with you the rest of my life, trapped in this manner, just the two of us, I’d be content,” Albus said. And he meant it. A girl would be nice - welcome, even - but with his standing on the popularity pole, that was hardly likely. Albus was perfectly happy right now, without a girl.

Scorpius was silent. Albus didn’t know what that meant. Had he said something strange? He didn’t think it was strange to want to spend all his time with his best mate. That was what best friends were for, right?

He shut his suitcase and fastened the latches. He was almost afraid to look at Scorpius. “Er, did I - ”

Scorpius threw himself at Albus, almost knocking him backwards, and wrapped him in a hug.

“Whoa! Okay. I know we hug now, but…”

Scorpius clenched the fabric of Albus’s sweater and mumbled something into his shoulder.

“Er…”

Scorpius gaze him a final squeeze and lifted his head up. “You probably couldn’t understand that, I mean I did kind of talk...into your shirt...sorry. I said, um, ‘I’m thankful we’re friends’. I just - you and I - well - I’m really glad you’re my friend.”

Albus patted Scorpius on the shoulder. “I’m glad we’re friends, too, mate.”

This year, when Albus left Malfoy Manor through the Floo, something was different. In the years before, they’d always been sad to part, but also excited to see each other again soon at Hogwarts. But now, all Albus felt was longing and dread. He didn’t want to leave this safe haven. Even if he would see Scorpius again soon, it wouldn’t compare to the time they spent together at Malfoy Manor. Nothing else on Earth could.

 

Albus despised shopping. He’d been dragged to Diagon Alley more times than he could count, and although his first few visits were quite, well, _magical_ , the bustling crowds and the meddling sellers and the nosy stares quickly became old.

It was rare times like these that he counted himself lucky to have an older brother, whose old school books and supplies were piled somewhere in the attic, waiting to be used again. Last year, when Albus proved to his mum that yes, his robes still fit him, and yes, he could dig out all the school supplies he needed from the attic, she had mercifully spared him a trip to Diagon Alley. Personally, he believed she appreciated his attention for conservation and  reclamation; besides, shopping for Lily was more than taxing enough.

While his mum and Lily were shopping, Albus crept into the attic. He walked up to the towering pile of books shoved in the corner of the attic, floorboards creaking slightly with each step, navigating around boxes of old potion ingredients, jumbles of dangerous looking magical artifacts, hoards of unused muggle technology, and a small mountain of sweaters. Neither of his parents were very organized people, nor were any of their children, and their house was a perpetual mess. Albus knew Scorpius would throw a fit if he saw his house like this. The first time Scorpius had visited, during Christmas break of fourth year, his mother had recruited his grandmother to help clean their house to make it look presentable. To their credit, they did a pretty good job. And to his delight, Scorpius had said he felt right at home.

Albus looked at the list in his hand; _A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6, Flesh-eating Trees of the World, Advanced Potion Making_...he could also use a new set of dragon hide gloves. Albus hoped James left his old gloves here, the ones with the Hungarian Horntail hide he’d gotten as a present from Uncle Charlie.

He cringed at the pile, and began digging.

_This would be so much easier with magic,_ a part of him thought. But another part of him liked go through all the old books and magical supplies. You never knew what you could find. Last year, he’d found a book that was _literally_ alive. The moment it roared at him, he dropped it and ran, causing so much commotion, the entire Potter family was drawn into the attic. It almost ate his toes before his mum finally caught it and stroked its spine.

Albus picked through the pile, snatching books out and tossing them to the side when they didn’t meet his needs. _Confronting the Faceless...Year With the Yeti...Quintessence: A Quest…_

Albus cracked open the cover of this one. A book on complicated charms.

_I bet Scorpius would love this._ Albus added to book to his stack. He decided it would be Scorpius’ “Welcome back to this hell-hole” gift.

It wasn’t that Albus _hated_ Hogwarts. At least, he didn’t hate it like he did before. He would describe his feelings toward Hogwarts now as simple dislike. No matter what his parents or teachers did to make him feel welcome on the school grounds, they couldn’t reverse his outcast status, or make him good at Quidditch, or make him smart enough to keep up with classes. In fact, the only things he liked about Hogwarts were the castle itself, potions, and Scorpius.

He went back to searching.

_Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3...Travels with Trolls..._ another copy of _Year with the Yeti..._ aha! _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6._

By the time Albus found the majority of his books, he had nearly dismantled the entire stack. He was down to the very bottom, and there was one book left on his list.

_Advanced Potion Making._

Albus should have expected this one to be the hardest to find. After all, James didn’t even take N.E.W.T. level potions. It was a long shot, but Albus _really_ didn’t want to go to Diagon Alley.

For once, luck was on his side. His hand hovered over the sea of books, his fingers wiggling as if to sense its presence, his gaze roaming numerous covers and titles, when he suddenly knew where to look. _There!_ He was surprised he hadn’t missed it: the copy was so old and battered it nearly blended into the dusty floorboards. The edge of it peaked out from underneath a bright orange copy of _Gadding with Ghouls_. As Albus carefully pulled it out, a dark shudder overcame him. The book was cold to the touch.

_Odd_ , he thought, as examined it. “Advanced Potion Making” was stamped across the spine in faded gold print, and though the book was fragile, it still appeared intact enough to use.

Albus tucked it under his arm and carried all of his prizes to his room, to pack in his suitcase. _Lucky,_ he thought. It was almost as though he was drawn to that last book. But Albus’ was weariness of the book was overshadowed by his delight of having a complete set of school supplies.

Albus dropped the books unceremoniously into his trunk and trudged back upstairs. He would search for James’ gloves and test his luck once again.

 

**Twenty Five Years Ago**

 

_It was the last day of his sixth term, and Harry rose early to pack. It was a poor distraction for his thoughts, though. Dumbledore’s funeral was today. How could he do something as menial as packing? Stacking books, gathering stray parchment, folding shirts and robes and socks…_

_The sun began to rise, and though Harry tried to clear his head, one thought nagged at him. The Prince’s Book. Snape’s book. Snape. Who had killed Dumbledore. Who had run away, and betrayed all of them. Harry had used that book all year long. Used that cursed spell on Malfoy without even thinking._

_He hadn’t thought much about the book until yesterday, when he realized he should have shown the book to Dumbledore, or not have used it at all…not that it would have done much good. Now Dumbledore was dead, murdered by the hand that wrote those notes._

_It was sitting in the Room of Requirement right now. Just sitting there, waiting for someone to pick it up and delve into the cursed knowledge in its ink stained pages. Anyone could walk in and grab it, anyone could fall under its spell like he had._

_Harry wouldn’t be here to retrieve it next year. He would be gone and he had no idea when or if he would see the castle again after today. He’d be hunting Horcruxes, alone, and ignorant._

_A new thought crossed his mind. A book like that might be useful, with all its cursed knowledge, on his quest to find the horcruxes._

_He decided was better just to take the book. At the very least, it was better off in his hands than someone else’s. He knew what that book truly was._

_So Harry pulled on his shoes and shoved his wand in his pocket and started out of his dormitory. The sun still hadn’t quite risen, and the rest of his dorm mates were still sleeping. He considered waking Ron, but thought better of it. He didn’t think Ron, or any of his friends, would approve of him taking the book back._

_The air was fresh that morning as Harry walked through the castle. He didn’t run into a single living - or dead - soul on his way to the seventh floor. Pacing in front of the wall where the door would appear, he thought loudly and clearly_ I need to get the book, I need to get the book. _And when he turned around a third time, the door was there._

_It was easy to find the ugly bust with the tiara on it. He grabbed the book from underneath it, blew off a minuscule amount of dust, stuck it in his bag, and headed back up to his room, the book thumping against his side._

_Several months later Harry sat in a tent, bored and aggravated out of his mind. Hermione lay on the bed across from him, reading_ The Tales of Beedle the Bard. _Reading didn’t seem like such a bad idea right now. It might get his mind off of…well, everything. Especially Ron._

_“Hermione, where’s your bag?” he asked._

_She didn’t glance up until a few moments later._

_“Sorry, what?”_

_“Your bag. Where is it?”_

_“It’s on the table. What do you need?”_

_“Something to read,” Harry said while reaching a hand inside the bag._

_Hermione had a look of pleasant surprise on her face. “Oh, um, well, I brought a lot of books. Just in case.” She watched as Harry pulled out book after book and placed them on the table._ Hogwarts: A History; Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts, Break With A Banshee...

_“Break with a Banshee? Seriously Hermione?” Harry smirked, looking at the picture of a giddy Gilderoy Lockhart on the back cover._

_She blushed and stammered, “Well, if we ever, you know, happen to run into a situation…you never know!”_

The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Spellman’s Syllabary… _“They’re mostly textbooks. And only useful ones, too,” Hermione interjected._

_The stack on the table grew to an enormous height as Harry muttered, “Only the useful ones, of course…”_

Secrets of the Darkest Art, The Monster Book of Monsters, Advanced Potion Making…

_Advanced Potion Making. This copy was battered and worn so much that the letters on the cover were completely faded. Hermione would never let her books fall into such a state. He glanced up at her. She had a strange look on her face as she stared at the book, but Harry couldn’t tell what she was thinking._

_He opened to the inside back cover._ This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

_“I found it with your things. I thought…I didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on it. Why did you have it, Harry?”_

_But Harry was in a trance. This book…this book belonged to Snape. He was far from over his hatred of Snape. He shoved the book back in the bag and grabbed_ Break With a Banshee _. He silently vowed to never open the other vile book ever again._

_After the war, before things were settled, Harry drifted between houses. Sometimes he stayed at the Burrow, sometimes he stayed at Luna’s house, and sometimes he even stayed with Andromeda Tonks and baby Teddy. But when he finally settled down, it was in 12 Grimmauld Place._

_Hermione and Ron stayed with him for a while, once Hermione had completed her eighth year at Hogwarts and they all began to work for the Ministry. It was there, after more than a year, that Hermione finally unpacked her beaded bag. A great pile arose in Sirius’ old room one day that was soon divided into three piles, each labeled with their names._

_Harry didn’t touch his pile for a very, very long time. It wasn’t until he moved into a peaceful cottage with his new wife that he looked at it again. The pile held many unwanted memories for the both of them, but neither could bear to leave it unchecked at 12 Grimmauld Place._

_So the pile took up permanent residence in the attic, unlooked at by either Potter until their children became a little too inquisitive and a little too adventurous._

_All the while, a book, buried deep in the pile, lie in wait of a curious hand to open it once again._


	2. Boil and Bake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Scorpius head off to school.

_ Chug chug chug _ . Albus leaned his head against the window of the Hogwarts Express, watching the greenery whip by them. Scorpius sat across from him, fiddling with the loose threads on his sweater and pulling them even looser.

“My dad’s thinking of quitting,” Albus announced.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was kind of surprised at first...but then it sort of began to make sense.”

Harry Potter was tired of his job as an Auror. He was tired of fighting, tired of the never ending battles, tired of shouldering the weight of an entire country. Once his dad had started opening up and talking to him after the fiasco in fourth year, Albus began to understand a lot more about his dad. And that’s why he understood his want of an early retirement.

“Oh,” Scorpius said. “I kind of get it...but I bet it will be weird for him to not be working. He always has his hands all over the wizarding world, whether he wants it or not. I just can’t imagine your dad  _ not _ doing something.”

“Yeah, neither can I.” It was true; his dad could never escape from the jaws of adventure. It was a fate he’d passed on to his children, if Albus had anything to say about it. “I think he’s going to get bored, and end up going back. Could you imagine? Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, lounging around our house while his friends fight battles?”

“I think he’s done enough already. But I get what you mean, about him being idle.” Scorpius said, tapping his chin. Suddenly, he gasped. “I know! He should work at Hogwarts!”

Albus raised his eyebrows. “At Hogwarts?”

“It’s perfect!” Scorpius leaned on the edge up his seat, shoving his hand with one finger up in Albus’ face. “Firstly, he could still contribute to the wizarding community, because training the youth is a core pillar of society.” Scorpius put another finger up. “Secondly, he would get to come back to Hogwarts, and he loves Hogwarts, yeah?”

Albus rolled his eyes. “He never shuts up about it.”

“Exactly!”

“But what makes you think he would be a good teacher?”

Scorpius sighed dramatically. “Seriously, Albus? Don’t you know your father at all?”

Albus’ gut wrenched. A cold thread of guilt sunk into his stomach.  _ Don’t you know your father at all? _

“Anyway, I was getting to that. That was my third point.” Scorpius held up a third finger. “Hogwarts, 1995. The year the Ministry denied claims of the Dark Lord’s return. They established Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Only she was  _ horrible _ , perhaps the worst teacher that ever taught at Hogwarts - though that’s hard to measure, since technically, that’s subjective - ”

“Scorpius.”

“Right. Anyways, your father and his friends founded a club to teach Defense! Dumbledore’s Army, haven’t you heard of it? He taught a whole class of students, in the Room of Requirement. And you know what happened to those students? They became the fighters in the Battle of Hogwarts! Your dad basically taught the winning army!”

_ Taught the winning army?  _ Albus was sure that was an exaggeration, but he still felt a pang of guilt for not even knowing this much.

“I’ve asked Professor Longbottom about it, you know, because he was one of the students your dad taught, and he said your dad was an amazing teacher! You wouldn’t believe what he said, what he told me, about - ”

Scorpius went on, oblivious to Albus dazing off.

_ Don’t you know your father at all? _

Those words bounced around his head, banging on feelings of guilt and shame and embarrassment. He  _ didn’t _ know his father at all. Even after opening up to Albus, he never delved into his past. Albus knew the stories, and he knew what happened, but everything he knew he’d heard from others. When he was much younger, he use to ask his father about his time at Hogwarts, but he refused to talk about any of it. His mother had told him that that wound hadn’t finished healing over yet. Albus wondered if it was healed now.

“Scorpius, do you ever find it weird that you know more about my dad that I do?”

Scorpius stopped mid sentence, mouth open, and settled back into his seat. He considered Albus for a moment, then finally said, “I dunno. I mean, with a dad like yours, it’s kind of hard to judge?”

_ Knock knock knock. _

Albus and Scorpius nearly jumped out of their seats. The door to their compartment slid open, revealing a cart overflowing with sweets.

It was the trolley witch. Albus swore she was smirking. “Candy from the trolley, dears?”

Albus and Scorpius looked at each other and paled.

“No thanks,” Albus mumbled. Scorpius gulped, his hands squeezing the edge of his seat.

She slid the door closed with a bang. They could still hear her calls. “Candy from the trolley! Candy from the trolley…!”

They both sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness she’s gone,” Scorpius said.

“Even though we escaped from her that time, I can never look at her the same again,” Albus admitted.

Scorpius pulled something out from under his sweater. “I brought a couple of chocolate frogs with me. In case we needed something sweet. That wasn’t from her.”

He tossed one to Albus. “Thanks mate,” he said, unwrapping it quickly. Scorpius knew chocolate frogs were his favorite. “I’m never buying anything from her again.”

“Nor am I.”

“Everytime I see her, I get flashbacks of that time.”

“I’m the same! I still can’t believe she threw fucking  _ grenades _ at us - ”

“Can you believe how old she is?”

“Her hair, it looked positively terrifying - ”

“And her hands!”

“Hands shouldn’t look like that!”

They both shudder.

Albus held up his chocolate frog. “Cheers, mate, to bringing your own sweets!”

“Cheers!”

They shoved the chocolates into their mouths. It reminded Albus of the first time he’d met Scorpius, on this very train. They’d spent the entire ride going through Scorpius’ supply of candy, and by the time they got to their dorm rooms that night, both were sick to their stomach. Still, it was an oddly good memory for Albus. It was a time before he felt completely unwelcome at Hogwarts.

_ Knock knock knock. _

Albus and Scorpius went silent, and exchanged a glance.

_ Is she back? _ Scorpius mouthed. Albus shrugged.

“It’s Rose. You in there, Al?”

Scorpius sighed, “Oh thank god. I don’t think I could look at her mangy face again without pissing myself.”

Albus smirked and opened up the compartment door. Rose stood in the hallway, hands on her hips. “Whose wrinkly face?”

Scorpius’ grin melted off his face. “Oh - um, not yours. Definitely not yours.”

“What do you want, Rose?” Albus asked.

She looked at both of them, any kind of suspicion leaving her eyes and replaced by something else, something kinder. She closed the compartment door behind her and sat down next to Albus. She rested her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together and her gaze on the floor.

Scorpius looked at Albus questioningly. Albus shrugged again.

Rose let out a deep breath, and said, “I want to apologize.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Albus could practically feel his best friend’s confusion. “Come again?” Albus asked.

“I’m apologizing.”

Silence again.

Scorpius fidgeted in his seat. “Er...I’m sorry, but...what are you, um, apologizing for…?”

Finally, Rose looked up. Her deep brown eyes, normally sharp and alert, were soft with regret. “I haven’t treated you two right over the years, and I’m sorry. Just because you guys are in a different house, or a little weird...it doesn’t excuse my behavior. Scorpius, I’m sorry. You’ve been kind to me, in your own weird way, and I’ve only rejected you. Albus, you’re my cousin, my family, but I’ve still been rude to you. A family needs to stick together, but I’ve left you in the dust, and I’m sorry.”

Albus took in Rose’s words. It was more than she’d said to him in years.

“Wow, I - I’m speechless. Nearly speechless, since I just...said that...” Scorpius said. “I mean, I don’t think you needed to apologize, you weren’t all that bad to us - ”

“I  _ did _ need to apologize, and we both know it,” Rose cut across him.

_ She’s not wrong, _ Albus thought.

“In that case, um, thank you? I must have taken a lot of guts to say that,” Scorpius said. Scorpius may have accepted it, but Albus still wasn’t quite as sure she was sincere. “She has enough guts to go around, I think. Did your mum ask you - ”

“God, no, I’m not doing this because my mum asked me to! I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do!” Rose rose out of her chair, practically shouting at him.

“What made you realize?” Albus asked, unperturbed by her fiery display.

Rose sunk into her seat with a huff. “I dunno...I see Lily and Hugo playing together, and remember how we use to play as kids. Before Hogwarts. And when I hear people gossiping about you, it makes me so angry! But mostly, I’m angry at myself. Because I use to say the same things. And I know it’s wrong, now, but...I still don’t say anything. I don’t defend you, either of you, and I hate it because that makes me a coward. I hate feeling like a coward.” Rose clenched her fist tightly. “But this year will be different. I’m not going to be silent. I’m not going to listen to people tease you anymore. And I want - I want us to be friends.”

“Okay,” Scorpius said eagerly. Albus shot him a look, but Scorpius either doesn’t notice it or ignored him.

“Okay?” Rose repeated. “Just...just like that?”

“Yes,” Scorpius said. “I’ve kinda wanted to be your friend for years, so…”

“Oh,” Rose said. “Right. Albus, what about you?”

Albus still wasn’t sure about this. He did believe her, when she said none of their parents put her up to this (if they had, it would have been a lot sooner, after all, and Rose wouldn’t have come up to them on the train, when she could be socializing with her other popular friends.) But she had been a part of the crowd that had ridiculed him and Scorpius for years. Could they just ignore their history? And be friends, just like that?

He looked at Scorpius. He gave Albus a little half smile, a bit of chocolate still on the corner of his lip.

_ Please? _ he mouthed.

“Fine. We can try to be friends, or whatever.”

Scorpius cheered.

“Thanks,” Rose said, placing her hand on his knee.  “You giving me a second chance...it means a lot to me.” She looked at him with a grateful smile, and suddenly Albus thought that maybe, this was a good idea after all.

Rose sat with them in their compartment the rest of the way to Hogwarts. Scorpius and Rose compared their grades and bickered in circles around each other. They laughed so loudly at a story Rose told about her little brother Hugo and the gardening gnomes, that the party in the next compartment came and asked if they were okay.

Albus had to admit, it was kind of fun.

The welcoming feast was mercifully uneventful. The hat sang a new song, and Slytherin gained a new hoard of first years. Not that Albus or Scorpius had to worry about them. McGonagall would have had to be crazy to give either of them the position of Head Boy, after what happened in fourth year. That just meant less duties for Albus to worry about, which was fine by him.

After the feast, the boys headed straight to their room, hoping to get settled in before the masses began to arrive. Albus struggled to keep up with Scorpius’ fast pace; he had definitely grown during the summer. It was rather irritating trying to keep on his taller friend’s heels.

Albus glared at Scorpius’ quick feet, and smirked: a sliver of pale skin shone between his black socks and the hem of his robe (which had obviously grown too small for him.)

“You’ve grown,” Albus told him when they finally flopped onto their beds. Unpacking their trunks, conveniently next to their beds, would come later. They were the first to arrive, just as Albus liked it.

“And you haven’t.” Scorpius smiled at him innocently.

Albus sneered. “At least I won’t have to buy new robes.”

“Fair point. You can comfort yourself with that thought the next time you ask me to reach for potion ingredients on the top shelf again.”

“That was a low blow, Scorpius. I don’t think I’ll give you your present after all.”

Scorpius’ eyes went wide. He rolled onto his side, asking, “Present? Did you say present?”

“Not any more,” Albus said, unable to hold back a smirk.

Scorpius climbed out of his bed and began to rummage around in Albus’ trunk. “Hey!” Albus snapped at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll still help you reach the top shelf,” Scorpius murmured, tossing a bundle of socks onto the floor. “This present, what is it, exactly?”

Albus sighed. So much for leaving unpacking for later. “It’s a book.”

Scorpius hummed happily. “I do like books.” He searched a little longer, until he slammed Albus’ trunk shut. “Aha!” he exclaimed, holding up a book-shaped package.

“Welcome back to this hell hole,” Albus said. He flipped around onto his stomach so he could watch Scorpius unwrap his gift at the foot of his bed.

“Honestly Albus,” Scorpius said between tears of paper. “You’re a bit a of a drama queen.”

“Says the one who literally lept of out of his bed at the mention of a ‘present’.”

Scorpius tore the last bit of paper off of the book, then held it up close in front of his nose. “Ohoho, ‘Quintessence: A Quest,’ by Orabella Nuttley. Sounds rather interesting. ‘Quintessence’ -  is that a reference to alchemy, perhaps?”

Albus shrugged. “Dunno. I just found it in our attic and thought you might like it.”

Scorpius wasn’t listening. His nose was already buried in the book.  _ What a nerd _ .

Albus sat up and looked out the porthole between their beds. It was about the size of his chest, studded with silver bolts. Beyond the thick wall of glass was murky green water. Lily, having heard infamous stories about the Slytherin dorms, often asked him what he could see at the bottom of the lake. But the water was so murky, it was difficult to see anything. And none of the fishes, let alone magical creatures, liked wandering too close to the school. Albus couldn’t blame them.

“Hey Scorpius,” he asked. “Do you really trust Rose that easily?”

Scorpius shrugged. “I dunno if ‘trust’ is the right word. But yes - I want us to be friends. You know I’ve wanted us to be friends for a long time.”

He did know. That didn’t change the fact that Rose hadn’t said anything during that long time.

Scorpius continued. “I know I’m being optimistic, not realistic, but...I do think she means well.”

_ Of course you do,  _ Albus thought. He’d always thought that Scorpius had a hard time seeing the bad in people, an uncommon trait for a Slytherin. But what he lacked in judgement, he made up for with quick wit and caution. Albus had always admired that about him.

“Give her a chance, Albus.”

Albus sighed. He  _ didn’t _ admire how trusting Scorpius was. “Fine. But only because  _ you _ want me to.”

“...thanks.”

“Good morning, lumps! It is my pleasure to welcome you N.E.W.T. level potions! You’ve all done well to get this far in the most complicated and tricky of magical subjects, but it only gets tougher from here!”

Professor Tincup stood proudly at the head of the classroom, her booming voice waking her students out of their morning thrall. Nearly as tall as Hagrid himself, she wore a lavender robe embroidered with orange tubular plants, which clashed horribly with her short red hair. She had a long face punctured by a fat, round nose and bright green eyes. Her wide mouth was perpetually curved in a mischievous grin, and her thin lips were coated in her signature shade of plum purple lipstick.

“Now!” she shouted, accenting her voice by slapping her palms on her desk. Her eyes already twinkled with mischief. “I’d tell you to prepare yourselves, but if you’re not already prepared, then you’re in deep trouble, young students! You’ve never taken a class like this before, and you’ll never take a class like this again. Keep up, or face the consequences! You’ll need to give your full attention to every lesson, every homework assignment, every word in those textbooks of yours, or you will absolutely not pass your potions N.E.W.T! Not that I mean to scare you. Well, maybe a little bit. This year, we’ll be learning…”

Professor Tincup was Albus’ favorite professor. Hired the year after the war, Professor Tincup had made Hogwarts her home a long time ago. She was strict but encouraging, snarky but never mean, and just a little bit mad. (Though, Albus had to admit, all the teacher at Hogwarts were a little bit mad.) As the head of Ravenclaw house, Professor Tincup was prone to going off on long tangents that bored nearly everyone but Scorpius and Albus. She followed the textbook exactly, but often added her own lessons, and she kept her ingredients cupboard in a state that nearly had Scorpius in tears. She taught them to recognize obscure potions by sight, smell, and taste, which more often than not led to trips to the Hospital, which irritated Madam Pomfrey to no end. Albus loved her.

“Let’s start today with…” She dipped her bulbous nose into her copy of the textbook, one long, spindly finger skimming the pages. “Aha! Hiccoughing Solution~” she sang.

The class collectively sighed, Slytherins and Gryffindors alike. Albus smirked. He didn’t know what they were all complaining about. Hiccouching Solution was so simple, Albus had already memorized it. He rose of his seat and grabbed two sets of ingredients, one for him and one for Scorpius, while Scorpius set up their cauldrons and tools. Annoyingly, Rose was right behind him.

“Good luck, Al,” she said.

Albus looked her over. She seemed sincere. “…thanks,” he muttered.

Albus hurried back to the table. This new version of Rose was...unsettling.

“Oh, quit your complaining, lazy lumps!” Tincup called, throwing her arms at them. “This is just a warm up! And if you can’t handle a simple warm up, maybe N.E.W.T. level Potions isn’t for you~! C’mon, let’s get brewing, yeah?”

The students slowly got out of their seats, some flipping languidly to the recipe in the textbook.

Professor Tincup pursed her lips. “Guess you lumps could use some incentive. Alright! I’ll acquiesce. First to finish doesn’t have to do the first homework assignment!”

Her words took immediate effect. The rest of the class rushed to get up and started fighting for ingredients. Albus struggled to make his way back through the crowd, though he was pleased he’d gotten there first.

“Did you get everything?” Scorpius asked, straightening his silver knife so it was parallel to his textbook.

“Of course I did. Who do you take me for?” He set the ingredients on the table and rubbed his hands together, eager to prove to Professor Tincup that he was more than capable of acing her class again, be it N.E.W.T. level or not.

Albus set his cauldron down and began brewing.  _ Here we go.   _

As Albus continued with his potion, Professor Tincup wandered around the classroom, inspecting the students’ potions and making remarks that were admittedly less than kind. She stopped in front of Albus and Scorpius’ table, squinting her eyes as she surveyed their work.

“Where your textbook, Potter?” she asked.

Albus smiled. “Don’t need it.”

“That’s some overconfidence you have!” Tincup exclaimed. “I like it.”

She moved on and Albus continued stirring his potion. Two stirs clockwise, one stir counterclockwise. The potion turned thicker with every stir. 

He looked around the room: he was neck and neck with Scorpius, but no one else in the class was even near them, besides Karl Jenkins and –

Rose. She was already adding the dittany, smoke puffing above her cauldron in little fat clouds.

_ Damn her. _

In the end, Rose ended up winning the free pass on homework. And Albus was bitter about it. This year was suppose to be different: he had gotten an ’Outstanding’ on his O.W.L., and potions was his strongest subject! But he still didn’t have what to took to be top of his class even in a single subject. In that moment, he understood just how frustrated Scorpius felt, to be so close yet always beaten.

“Maybe you should have referred to the textbook,” Scorpius told him when he complained about it on their way to Transfiguration, “instead of relying on that ‘overconfidence’ Professor Tincup is so fond of.”

Albus sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am. Well, most of the time,” Scorpius said.

“I just thought – I mean, I did good on my O.W.L. ,and Professor Tincup loves me, but I’m still not the best.”

They slithered through a crowd of rowdy Hufflepuff fourth years, Scorpius easily making a path through crowd with his height.

“Trust me Albus, I understand exactly what you mean. That’s how I’ve felt for years.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really understand before,” he said honestly. Ever since fourth year, Albus was sure to make an extra effort to understand how Scorpius felt, even if it was where he was coming from at times. Experiencing it firsthand made it a lot easier to understand. “It’s fucking horrible.”

They walked into Transfiguration and plopped down in their usual seats. Scorpius grinned at him sympathetically. “It really is.”

That afternoon, Albus and Scorpius studied in their favorite spot; next to the boathouse, right by the edge of the lake. It was the perfect spot for two outcasts. While everyone else studied in the common room or in the library, Albus and Scorpius preferred a quieter location, one far away from the horrible teasing from the other students. The walk down to the boathouse was long, so it was usually deserted, especially this part of the year when the cold became too much. 

“Nothing a little heating charm can’t fix,” Scorpius had told him when they found their hideout at the beginning of first year. And even if it still was chilly after Scorpius cast a heating charm, Albus didn’t complain. 

But today, they weren’t alone. Beyond the boathouse, at the edge of the dock, someone sat with papers and books spread around them, legs dangling off the edge.

At the sound of Albus and Scorpius approaching, they jumped up and faced them.

“Um, hello,” said Rose.

Albus sighed. If Rose wanted to be their friend, fine. But did she have to invade their private spaces? “What are you doing here?” he asked.

She stood up, brushing her robes. “I was hoping to study together. I actually have a question about the Goblin Wars - ”

“How’d you know we’d be down here?!” Scorpius interrupted. Albus nearly laughed at the overly-affronted expression on his face.

Rose snorted. “I’ve known about your ‘hideout’ for years.” 

“How, exactly?!”

Rose tried to keep her face neutral, but Albus could tell she was trying to hide a smirk. “You aren’t exactly discreet about it. The path down here is out in the open. You didn’t think no one would notice after, what, six years?”

Scorpius blushed. “Well, I - we. Oh.”  

Smiling sympathetically, Rose plopped back down on the dock. “So Scorpius, I’m still unclear of the exact components that led to the Goblin Uprising in 1243, I understand the unrest over the New Ordinance on Goblin-Made Vendibles, but - ”

And so before Albus could tell her she had to leave, her and Scorpius were in a deep discussion about the nitty gritty details of the goblin wars. Albus scowled. Rose knew just the right buttons to push with Scorpius; she was more a Slytherin than he was. 

But Scorpius was smiling, and Albus knew why. Scorpius loved to talk about spells and charms and potions and history and  _ school _ , and this was where Albus fell short, and Rose excelled. As much as Albus wanted Rose out of the picture, he couldn’t bare to tear Scorpius away from his nerd-fest. So he set down his books and started his potions essay.

An hour later, his potions homework done (the rest of his homework decidedly not,) Albus let out a long dramatic sigh and snapped his transfiguration textbook shut. “I’m  _ bored _ ,” he announced.

Neither Scorpius nor Rose looked at him, both engrossed in a shared copy of - Albus felt a hint of annoyance -  _ Quintessence: A Quest.  _

“Oi,” he said, louder. He scooched closer to them and slapped his palm over the pages they were reading. “Aren’t you bored of this yet?”

Rose glared at him, but Scorpius didn’t even look up, used to Albus’ antics. He pushed Albus’ hand off the book. “No, thank you Albus.”

Albus groaned. “C’mon, let’s do something else.” 

This time, neither of them gave him any attention.

He would need to try harder. Bring up something they couldn’t ignore. 

“Hey Rose, where are your other friends?”

That got her attention. Her eyes snapped up to meet his own. “Which ones?”

Albus waved his hand in a vague manner. “You know, your group. Polly Chapman, Yann Fredericks and them.” 

Rose shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You don’t seem to hang out with them much anymore.”

“Albus, we’ve been here for  _ three days _ .”

“Three days when you’ve barely talked to them.”

“Why are you do you care about my friends so much?”

“I - ”

“Maybe he has a crush on one of them,” Scorpius cut in.

He stared at his best friend, in shock that he would betray him. “Oi! No I don’t.”

Scorpius grinned, the mischievous grin he inherited from his father that always surfaced when he was causing trouble. “I bet it’s Polly Chapman. You always did have a thing for her, didn’t you?”

“No, no, have you seen the way he looks at Annabelle Mullins? It’s got to be her,” Rose joined in.

“What? No, she’s awful! She’s mushier than mash potatoes.”

“Perhaps Jennifer Hennington?”

“Darla Nanders?”

“God, no!” Albus burst. “I don’t like any of those girls!”

“Do you like boys, then?” Rose asked. “Yann Fredericks is a real catch, if you can stand that arrogant attitude of his.”

Albus turned red. The question caught him off guard. “I - no - um - ”

“I might like boys,” Scorpius interrupted. 

Silence. 

Albus looked at his friend bewildered. It was a sudden, unexpected confession -  

“How about you, Rose? Anyone you fancy?” Scorpius blurted.

\- that was hastily cut short. 

“M-me? Er, no,” she said. 

Albus badly wanted to address the fact that his best friend may have just admitted he might be gay, but he didn’t even know where to begin. Ignorant to Albus’ inner confusion, Scorpius pressed on. “No one at all?” 

Fine then. He’d move on to this new subject, though he wouldn’t forget about the previous one. He couldn’t miss a chance to pester Rose, who wouldn’t meet their eyes and whose cheeks were flushed thoroughly enough to match her name. “Not one person,” she asserted, though her voice waivered. 

He and Scorpius glanced at each other. Scorpius raised his eyebrow, as if to say _ , Sounds suspicious.  _ Albus nodded in agreement.

“You sure about that?” Albus asked, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

“You don’t seem too sure,” Scorpius added.

Rose narrowed her eyes at them. “I’m sure,” she spat. 

Before Albus could open his mouth in a snarky reply, Rose swept her books into her bag and shuffled her papers into a neat stack. “I’m going to head back to the castle. You two should head back soon as well.” She stood up, chin in the air, bag perched on her shoulder, and strode back to the castle at a pace neither of them would be able to keep up with. 

Albus turned to Scorpius, who simply shrugged. “Sensitive subject?” he suggested. Albus nodded in agreement. 

Rose was right, though (of course). It was getting late, almost dinner time. So Albus and Scorpius followed her lead and packed up their belongings, heading back to the castle while trading theories about Rose’s mysterious not-crush.

 

That night, as everyone was falling asleep, Albus crawled into Scorpius’ bed, pulled the curtains closed, and uttered a  _ Muffliato _ spell.

“Scorpius, we - ”

“Wait.” Scorpius held his finger to his lips. Then he took out his wand and cast the same spell. “You’re my best friend Albus, but I wouldn’t trust your Muffliato spell to mask the sound of a fly sneezing.”

Albus rolled his eyes. “Whatever. We need to talk.” 

Scorpius pulled his knees up under his chin, wrapping his arms around his legs. He nestled his face into his knees and sucked a breath in. And then he started talking. 

“It’s about what I said today, down at the lake, right? I shouldn’t have said that. We were just, we were talking about it and the words just slipped out of my mouth before I knew it, and I said it. But then I  _ realized _ I said it and that was the worst. Do you think Rose will stop hanging out with us? I mean, she was the one that brought it up in the first place, but, well, you never know.” 

Albus noted how Scorpius stepped carefully around the actual question - a true Slytherin tactic. If Albus wanted to talk about it, Albus had to be the one to bring it up.

Before Scorpius could continue rambling, Albus asked, “Are you...you know…” Scorpius just looked at him, waiting. If they were going to get anywhere, Albus would have to say the word. “...gay?”

Unexpectedly, Scorpius looked him right in the eye. Normally, Scorpius avoided eye contact, especially when it came to awkward subjects, but now his steely grey eyes pierced his very soul. Scorpius said, threading his words together as carefully as a practiced weaver, “It wouldn’t matter to you if I were...right?”

Albus, unable to hold his gaze a second longer, looked away. “‘Course not.”

He could still feel Scorpius’ eyes on him. “Then what does it matter?” 

Albus frowned. Scorpius’ skill of turning words around like that was just a little bit infuriating. He was right - it  _ shouldn’t _ matter. But it did. Even though he didn’t confirm it, Albus knew Scorpius wouldn’t tread this carefully with his words if he was straight. And it wasn’t that Albus was homophobic - at least, he didn’t think he was. He was fine around his Teddy and whichever new boyfriend he brought home, it wasn’t like it made him uncomfortable. That much. 

So it shouldn’t matter. But it  _ did _ matter and Albus wanted to talk about it but he couldn’t because then Scorpius would think it was because Albus didn’t accept him, but he did accept him, that wasn’t it, that wasn’t it at all - 

Albus held back a groan. “It wouldn’t matter,” he told Scorpius. Unsure of what to do next, he smiled a little and crawled off of Scorpius’ bed. “Good talk,” he murmured.

He pushed back the curtains of his own bed and flopped into the covers, quickly pulling the curtains back into place. Albus rolled onto his side, facing away from Scorpius.

_ It doesn’t matter,  _ he told himself.  _ Scorpius is gay. Why should it matter? It’s no big deal. _

But his heart thumped unsteadily in his chest and his hands sweat against the sheets. But the sight of Scorpius’ serious, piercing eyes flashed in his mind on an endless loop. But he spent the entire night going back and forth, trying to convince himself it didn’t matter.

(It did.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't like how tcc portrayed Rose, so i'm fixing it
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed!!


	3. Something Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus opens the Half Blood Prince's book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG but i started college two weeks ago!! so i've been kinda busy with that...and i probably will be pretty busy with that in the future. idk how often i'll be able to update, but i'm not going to abandon this story, it's really fun to write!
> 
> in other news, i forgot to credit my beta, the wonderful [eazwel!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eazwel) thank you so much for all your help!!

Things were, well, _normal_ between them. Nothing changed, as Albus feared it would. It was unsettling at first, as Albus felt he was waiting for an imminent storm, but nothing happened. The lack of change was a relief. In fact, it was so irrelevant, Albus hardly ever thought about it. At least, not that much.

The fact was, Scorpius still acted the same. He didn’t start flirting with boys, he didn’t act strange with Albus. Everything was normal, and Albus appreciated the consistency. He was satisfied being Scorpius’ best and only friend, and if that didn’t change, it didn’t matter.

 

Albus drummed his fingers impatiently on the cover of _Advanced Potion Making_ , only half listening as Professor Tincup droned on about the hidden properties of flobberworm mucus. This was his least favorite part of potions. Lectures were boring; Albus wanted to _do_ something.

“...so I expect twelve inches on mucus next Wednesday.” The class produced a collective groan. Professor Tincup, ignoring their complaint, clapped her hands together. “That is that. Now what is the time? Ah, perfect! We have just enough time to brew a quick elixir. Good practice, good practice for your N.E.W.T.s. Alright then - you may each choose an elixir to brew! Be sure it doesn’t require more than - how much longer do we have - an hour to make!”

Albus perked up. Here was the fun part of potions.

“Which one are you doing?” he asked Scorpius.

“Hmm,” Scorpius ran his finger down his book’s table of contents. “I think an Elixir to Induce Happiness would work well.”

“We’ll both do it then, and share ingredients?” Albus asked. Scorpius nodded and went to fetch them supplies.

He’d have to use his textbook for this one; he hadn’t brewed this kind of elixir before. With a hint of pride, Albus realized he hadn’t yet had to open his textbook once.

Slightly disappointed to break his trend, Albus flipped the book open and was immediately met with a wall of black ink.

“Holy shit,” he muttered to himself. Numerous lines of inscriptions were squished into the margins. He flipped through the book, and it was the same on every page. Squeezed between directions, add-ons to the list of ingredients, even listing spells, the same messy scrawl annotated the entire book.

“What the hell.” Albus jumped at the sound of Scorpius’ voice. His friend peered over his shoulder. “Was that your dad’s book?”

Albus shrugged. “Not sure. Found it in the attic.” He ran his finger over the ink. The pages were so dry they crackled beneath his touch. “It doesn’t look like his handwriting.”

“Only fifty-four minutes left, lumps! If you don’t get started now, you aren’t going to finish in time!”

“The elixir takes forty minutes, we better get started,” Scorpius said, his focus now on class. He pushed a handful of ingredients towards Albus. “That looks hard to read. If you need to use my textbook…”

“Thanks. But I’ll be fine.” Albus turned to the recipe, and sure enough, the margins were thick with ink. Somehow, though, he could still decipher the recipe.

 

  1. __Add one peeled and diced Shrivelfig to cauldron.__



 

“Did you get two - ” Scorpius wordlessly handed him a Shrivelfig. “Thanks.”

As Albus peeled the fruit, he noticed a note next to the first direction.

_Slice parallel to cutting board, halfway though. Then horizontal, then vertical. Produces finer pieces._

It wasn’t how Albus usually cut it, but this way seemed it would work, so he did as the notes said.

The pieces did come out finer, and more even, than they usually did.

 _Interesting_ , Albus thought.

He continued following the textbook’s directions, up until the fourth direction. Squeezed above it was a line that read: _Add sprig of peppermint. Counteracts side-effects._

That _did_ match Inglewood’s Theory of Lamiaceae Effects, so Albus went ahead and tried it.

“What are you doing? There’s no peppermint in this recipe,” Scorpius said when Albus dropped the sprig in.

Albus pointed to his textbook. “The notes in here told me to. It fits, according to Inglewood’s Theory of - ”

A plume of lavender smoke shot up from his cauldron. He hoped that was a good thing.

Scorpius’ eyebrows cinched together. “But the recipe doesn’t call for peppermint.”

Albus just shrugged, and returned to his potion. It was a milky pink, exactly like the recipe said it should be.

He went on brewing, taking the hints from the mysterious handwriting. At one point he felt Professor Tincup staring over his shoulder, but he was too absorbed in his work to pay her any heed.

By the time the class period was over, Albus’ potion was frothy pink and smelled like marshmallows with a pleasant tang of peppermint.

“Excellent. Excellent Albus!” Professor Tincup cried when she checked his potion. “This might be the best work I’ve seen you do yet. Oh, is that peppermint I smell? You added that in there yourself?”

Albus nodded. “According to Inglewood’s - ”

“Theory of Lamiaceae Effect, of course. Brilliant work, excellent connection. Most students are afraid to apply the concepts we learn to their potions, because we are training to follow directions exactly, but potions can be tweaked! Nice experimenting, Albus, you’re thinking _exactly_ as a top N.E.W.T. student would.”

Albus beamed.

Professor Tincup moved on to Scorpius next. “Not bad, Scorpius, but you could have done much better if your stirs had been wider in diameter. And if you were a little more creative, like Albus here.” Albus glanced in Scorpius’ pot. His potion was more watery than Albus’, and didn’t smell quite as heavenly.

“Er...thanks.”

As soon as she left, Scorpius turned to him. “How did you do that?!”

Albus pointed to the book again.

Scorpius raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? Then why didn’t you tell her that?”

Albus shrugged. “It’s not like she needs to know.”

“That’s not very honest.”

“Tell me, when did I fool you into thinking I’m an honest person?”

Scorpius grinned. “Never.”

They packed up their belongings and headed out of the classroom. “I’m curious to know who wrote those notes,” Scorpius told him.

“Whoever it is, they have my thanks,” Albus said gratefully. He’d never gotten so much praise from Professor Tincup before. He still felt giddy from it. And that was a feeling he could get use to.

 

From then on, Albus used his textbook religiously. Every time they brewed a potion in class, he read and analyzed the inked notes carefully, even if he’d made the potion successfully before. For homework assignments, he’d refer to the appendix, in which the handwriting clarified pieces of theory at least as well as Professor Tincup did. The book hardly ever left his side. He’d even browse the book on his own, reading the notes in the margins about spells he had never heard of.

He started trusting in the book rather than in himself. And the results were astounding: he rose to the top on an elevator made of dry paper and old ink. Every potion he made came out exactly right. His understanding of ingredients’ properties and potion theory increased. He started raising his hand in class, confident he always knew the answer. What’s more, he was completely unopposed. Not even Rose came close to him, struggling nearly as much as everyone else with the difficulties of N.E.W.T. level potions.

He offered to share with Scorpius, but Scorpius had refused.

“It would feel too much like cheating,” Scorpius had told him. “Not that you’re cheating! Not really. It’s your textbook, and you’re just following the directions in it…”

“You sure you don’t mind me using it?” Albus had asked.

“...you are doing rather well, thanks to that book.”

_That’s not an answer._

Albus knew Scorpius felt uncomfortable about the book, but Albus was so lost in his own success that he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

This was what he had been missing. The thrill of beating every single person in the class, watching them struggle as he breezed by. Closing that gap between him and the top without breaking a sweat. Sure, he was still an average student in his other subjects, but when he walked into the Potions classroom, he was king. Professor Tincup doted on him. Rose tried (and failed) to hide her jealousy of him. The rest of the class just resented him. For the first time, he felt smart, he felt powerful.

The book, the source of his newfound power, stayed by his side, never out of reach. It was funny, how the book seemed to have a life of its own. Albus would drop it and it’d fall open exactly on the page he’d need. It practically fell out of his bag when Albus reached for it. The mysterious aura around it made it feel like a friend.

A month or so into school, when they were walking back from potions, and Scorpius asked him again who he thought had wrote it, Albus realized he left his book in the classroom. He rushed back to the classroom before Scorpius could even follow him. The book rested on the table, right where he had left it. Only, it was open to the back cover.

As Albus reached for it, he noticed a bit of text he hadn’t read before.

_This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood Prince._

_Interesting_ , he thought. Gently, he placed the book in his bag, and returned to where Scorpius was waiting for him in the hallway. He could finally answer Scorpius’ question.

 

“‘The Half-Blood Prince’? That sounds familiar.”

“It definitely sounds familiar.”

Scorpius, Albus, and Rose sat on the dock behind the boathouse. Rose had wormed her way into studying with them, but Albus couldn’t bring himself to care any more. She was single-handedly saving his Transfiguration grade. (It was nice, too, that he could hold something above her.) Plus, Scorpius was happy to have her around, and Albus liked to see his best friend happy.

And for some reason, it comforted him to know Scorpius was gay. That meant he and Rose would only be friends. In which case Albus would still be the better friend, because of what they’d been through together. Rose could never be closer to Scorpius than Albus was.

He had just shown them the inscription in the back of the book. And both were immediately intrigued.

“I feel like I’ve heard it before, but I can’t place where.”

“It rings a bell, but…”

“Arg! It’s on the tip of my tongue!”

Ten minutes of intense thinking later, they both gave up.

“Library?”

“Library.”

Well, not entirely.

In the end they walked all the way back up to the library just so Rose and Scorpius could research this ‘Half-Blood Prince.’ They were determined to find out who it really was.

Albus was wondering how it got in his attic. It wasn’t James’, so it had to be one of his parents’. Which got Albus wondering whose it was, and why _they_ had this book. Was it an old Weasley hand-me-down? Was it borrowed from a friend, and never returned? Something left behind for his dad from his parents? For all Albus knew, it could have been part of the Black family collection.

When they finally came to the library after a walk that left them all breathless, Albus hesitated in the doorway. It wasn’t as though Albus had never gone to the library - he just never felt comfortable there. Books had never been his friends (until now) and Albus despised the heavy silence that settled along his shoulders like a heavy weight. Quiet was almost worse than noise because Albus was hyper aware of the looks, the whispering, the fingers pointed behind his back. If he listened closely enough he could practically hear their thoughts, mocking him and Scorpius. _Why are you here? You don’t belong,_ they said.

But he did belong, now. He was an academic, a Potions academic, and the library was an academic’s playground. Albus pushed ahead, catching up with his friends.

Scorpius already had a small stack of books perched on his hip.

“Let me help,” Albus said, taking the stack of books from him.

“...thank you.” Scorpius turned right back to the shelves, not even turning to look at him. He was very involved, though Albus couldn’t understand why.  

 _He must like the mystery_ , he concluded.

They rendezvoused with Rose at a table in the back corner, Albus carrying the books Scorpius picked out. They spread them across the table, the sheer volume covering every inch of it.

“How the fuck are we going to search through all of this,” Albus said.

Rose smiled. “I’ve discovered a spell that can search through text quickly, using keywords. It’s quite useful, actually. I came up with it after learning about the mechanics behind a keyword search in Muggle technology - ”

“You invented a spell?!” Scorpius exclaimed.

“More like tweaked an existing one,” Rose said with a shrug. As nonchalant as she acted, Albus knew she delighted in his praise. “Anyways, the incantation is _Inveniet Eam_ , and then the word or phrase you want to find. Swish your wand like you do for _Accio_. Like this.”

Rose pointed her wand at the book nearest her. “ _Inveniet Eam_ Half-Blood Prince.”

The book popped open and the pages began flipping rapidly in a bridge of paper. Not a moment later the back snapped close, the back cover facing up.

Rose huffed. “No good. This one didn’t have any mention at all.”

“You sure it works?” Albus asked skeptically.

“Positive.”

So they set to work, casting the spell on each of the books. It took Albus a few tries to get the hang of it, but he managed to get it to work. It took them ten minutes to search through all of them.

“Not one mention! I can’t believe it…”

“And I was _so sure_ Bathilda’s book would have it.”

Albus sighed. “Are we done here?”

Scorpius hummed, biting his lip. Albus watched as he chewed his bottom lip on the left side of his mouth, his canine just peeking out from under his top lip. Albus almost wanted to tell him to stop eating his poor lip, when he finally said to Rose, “Restricted section?”

“Restricted section.”

Albus tore his gaze away from Scorpius’ mouth and sighed. “You guys want to search right now, don’t you?”

They both nodded.

“We’ve already been here forever!”

“Albus it’s been twenty minutes and you know it.”

“Twenty minutes that got us _nowhere_.”

Scorpius frowned. “Give us twenty more, we’ll find something.”

Albus didn’t say anything.

“But,” Rose said, “how are we going to get into the Restricted Section? You normally need a pass from a teacher…”

“That won’t be a problem,” Scorpius said, turning to Albus with a smile on his face.

Albus grinned back at him. He knew where this was going. “Not a problem at all. Let’s go pay Professor Longbottom a visit, shall we?”

 

“Why didn’t we just ask Professor Tincup? She loves you!” Rose asked as the trio made their way down to the greenhouses.

“She loves me, but she would ask questions,” Albus said.

“We’ll have to explain ourselves fully,” Scorpius continued.

“She doesn’t cut corners.”

“And what if she figures out why we’re asking? What if she knows who the Prince is?”

“Then I’m _screwed_.”

“Then Albus is screwed.”

Rose frowned. “Then maybe Albus shouldn’t be using the book like this in the first place.”

“Maybe that isn’t any of your business,” Albus snapped.

Rose, unfazed by Albus’ attitude, complained, “But Professor Longbottom _knows_ our _parents_.”

“Exactly. That’s why he loves you.”

“But what if he tells them?!”

Scorpius grinned. “What’s there to tell? We were curious about a certain subject and wanted permission to investigate it to its fullest? Sounds horrible.”

They exited the castle and trekked down to the greenhouses. All seven of them were neatly nestled behind the castle, hiding in its looming shadow. The chilly October air nipped at their cheeks, sending a shiver down Albus’ spine. Scorpius ran ahead and began checking the greenhouses for their professor.

“I don’t like this,” Rose told Albus.

“Yet here you are,” he said.

At the other end of the field, Scorpius waved his hands, urging them to follow.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” Albus told Rose as they jogged to catch up to Scorpius.

“I want to be here,” Rose asserted. Her serious tone surprised him. “I just...don’t like this.”

They walked into Greenhouse 7 together. In the middle, directly under the great dome of glass, Professor Longbottom tended to a bushel of Fanged Geraniums. He stroked their petals, cooing at them like a doting parent, as he often did with all his plants. His sleeves, perpetually rimmed with mud, were pushed up to his elbows. A streak of dirt was smeared across his chin, and two or three leaves had settled into his mop of hair.

The fanged geranium he tended to opened its mouth wide, humming in Longbottom’s direction. “That’s it, thank you dear,” he said as he gently pulled a fang out of its mouth with such skill, the geranium didn’t even notice.

Scorpius shuffled his feet. “Er...Professor Longbottom.”

He glanced up. “Oh! Hello,” he said, shoving the fang in the deep, overflowing pockets of his robe. “Scorpius, Rose, Albus. How are you all?”

“Well, thank you.”

“Just fine.”

“We’re fine.”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” Professor Longbottom said, walking over to join them. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Actually, yes,” Albus said. “You see, I was hoping you could give me - us - permission to enter the restricted section.”

“Is that so?” he asked, his eyebrow raised.

“It is so,” Scorpius said.

“Why?”

Albus took a breath and began, “There was a term - no, not a term, it was a name - that came up in our potions class. I can’t remember when, but Professor Tincup mentioned it in the passing, but whatever she said peaked my interest! I can’t remember why, but the name stuck in my head. I know we’ll be doing a research paper soon, and I wanted to get a head start picking out my topic.”

Professor Longbottom raised his eyebrows, a faint grin on his lips. “I wish you were this proactive in my class.”

Albus shrugged. “Potions comes more naturally to me, like it did my grandmother.”

“Of course.” Professor Longbottom nodded, his eyes going soft.

“Anyways, I wanted to do some preliminary research, to see if this topic was worth looking into, but I couldn’t find any mention of it. I even had Rose and Scorpius help me, but none of us could find anything. So we wanted to check in the Restricted Section before trying to find other sources.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rose looking at him in disbelief. He bit back a grin.

“And why couldn’t you ask Professor Tincup for permission to the Restricted Section?”

“I wanted to surprise her. In fact, do you think you could keep it a secret from her? I’m sure she’d be even more pleased if this came as a surprise.”

“My lips are sealed,” Longbottom said fondly, zipping his lips shut. He shoved his hand down his pocket and produced a scrap of parchment and a quill. Using the Venomous Tentacula’s bed of soil as leverage, he scribbled a note for them. “Here you are. I hope your research is productive.”

“Thanks Professor! You’re the best!” Albus told him, pocketing the note.

“What is this term you’re looking for? Perhaps I can help you with it.”

Albus glances at Scorpius and Rose. They both looked at him with wide, paranoid eyes, shaking their heads ever so slightly.

 _What’s the harm in asking?_ Albus thought. _Perhaps Professor Longbottom could point us in the right direction. I can dodge his questions._ “It’s a person, actually. The Half-Blood Prince.”

Longbottom furrowed his eyebrows and rubbed his chin, further smearing the patch of dirt there. “The Half-Blood Prince. Sounds familiar…”

Albus’ hand was yanked behind him - Scorpius was dragging him out of the greenhouse.

“Oi!”

But Scorpius just tugged harder.

“Ah, that’s too bad Professor, maybe we’ll have better luck in the library thanks!” Rose spouted as they dashed away.

“Er, you’re welcome…!” Professor Longbottom called after them.

Once they were a decent ways away from Greenhouse 7, Albus yelled, between puffs of breath, “Why did we leave? He might have known something!”

“Guys,” Rose began.

“ _Exactly_ !” Scorpius shouted, completely ignoring her for once. Scorpius stormed up to him, using his height to tower over Albus. His eyes shone silver with anger, his hair in a disarray. He looked almost scary. “He might have known something, and then he might have found out you were _cheating_!”

As soon as the word left his mouth, Scorpius backed down. The anger dropped from his face, suddenly replaced by guilt and fear.

But the deed had been done, and Albus felt a plague of anger envelope him like a blanket. It wrapped his heart in darkness and clenched hands into fists; it ignited a fire in his mind and blinded him. Albus stepped closer to Scorpius with an sickening scowl on his face. _How dare he go that far. He knows what this book means to me!_

“I thought you said it wasn’t cheating,” he spat, colder than ice.

Scorpius stepped back, and even though he was taller than Albus, Albus seemed to loom over him, his ireful presence clouding around them like an ominous fog. Scorpius gulped. “It’s not - I mean - in a sense, it might be, but - Albus I was just trying to _protect_ you!”

“You’re lying!” Albus roared. He pointed an accusatory finger in Scorpius’ terrified face. “You don’t care about protecting me, you’re just looking out for yourself! You’re just jealous that I’m doing _better_ than you for once - ”

“Stop it!” Rose intervened with a shout. She stepped between them, yanking them away from each other.

Albus started. The angry aura around him dissipated with the abruptness of a candle blown out, leaving him disoriented and cold.

“Stop fighting!” Rose demanded, exasperation plain on her face. “All that matters is that we got the note. Now we can search through the restricted section. That’s what we came here for, remember?”  

“Right.” Scorpius glanced at him in solidarity, but Albus had to look away. He felt horrible for having shouted at his best friend like that, he felt sick deep in his gut. _What the hell came over me?_

“Y-yeah…” Albus mumbled.

They started their walk back to the castle in silence, tension still in the air.

Rose cleared her throat. “I think we’ve done enough research for today. We can look again another time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Scorpius agreed. Albus nodded, even though he really didn't want to look into it again. He didn't care who the Half Blood Prince was - that had no effect on his grades.

They hiking alongside the castle, through the overgrown green grass, next to the ivy climbing up the old stone walls. By now, the sun was beginning to set, casting a soft yellow glow that outlined the castle in gold and glimmered along the lake. 

Before the silence could set in, Rose spoke again. “You know, I use to think you two didn’t fit in with the rest of the Slytherins at all.”

Scorpius gave Albus a grin: an offering of peace. “Trust me, they feel the same way.”

With a tentative smile, Albus took it, despite the guilt still pooled in his gut. “Most definitely.”

“I was wrong,” Rose said. Albus could hear the frown in her voice. “You two are nasty manipulative.”

Albus and Scorpius smirked at each other. “Us, manipulative?”

“How dare you accuse us of that.”

“Impossible.”

“We aren’t smart enough for that.”

“Oh, shut it already.”

When the majority of people hated it, Albus found it was necessary to learn how to use the people that didn’t hate you to your advantage. Albus didn’t consider this manipulation. He was simply using his resources well.

“If we really wanted to cover our tracks, we could have Obliviated him.”

“What!? Obliviate a _teacher_?! Are you mad?”

Albus and Scorpius burst out laughing.

“He wasn’t serious Rose, can’t you take a joke?”

“There’s no way in hell Scorpius would let me get away with that.”

 

That evening, after dinner, Scorpius tugged on Albus’ sleeve and pointed his finger up. Albus nodded, and they exited the Great Hall and began to climb the stairs.

This was yet another of their traditions at Hogwarts. Neither of them liked the Slytherin dungeons very much; it were dark and dusky and somber, a feeling that was only increased by the duo’s outcast status. So they would often retreat to the place least like the claustrophobic and dingy Slytherin dorms: the top of the Astronomy Tower.

Tonight, as they had many nights before, the duo lay across the tiles of the roof of the Astronomy Tower, watching the sky. Large, bloated dark clouds rolled across the night sky, nearly obscuring every star. Only a few that shone brighter than the rest peaked through clouds. The moon was nowhere in sight.

“Scorpius?” Albus asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry...about earlier.”

Scorpius rolled on his side to face Albus, his head propped up in his hand. “I forgive you. I was out of line, too, after all...”

Albus nearly sighed in relief. They’d gotten along fine since their fight earlier, but Albus felt like he was treading on thin ice. Hearing those words straight from Scorpius’ mouth gave him the freedom to relax.

But he couldn’t relax completely. A thread of doubt nagged at him, dragging him down a new hole of concerns. Albus couldn’t ignore it. No matter how much Scorpius apologized, he had still said those words. It shouldn’t have mattered, so what if Scorpius thought he was cheating? As long as Scorpius didn’t report him, it didn’t matter.

But the thread tugged hard and Albus found himself breaking the silence once again to ask, “Scorpius - you’re on my side, right?”

“...of course I am. You’re my best friend.”

Satisfied, Albus tucked his hands behind his head in a pillow. They watched the clouds roll by, heard owls hoot in the night, felt the nighttime breeze scrap their uncovered cheeks.

“Hey Albus.”

“Yeah?”

“You sure you’re not bothered by the whole...gay thing?”

Albus had gotten so involved in his success in Potions, lost in that dark cloud of success, that he’d forgotten about Scorpius’ confession. _Oh._ He remembered back in fourth year, when Scorpius accused him of being to self absorbed to notice Scorpius’ own struggles. He felt almost guilty about brushing off Scorpius’ confession, which had obviously been a struggle for him. Even though he hadn’t _actually_ told Albus he was gay.

“Is that a confirmation?”

“...yeah. No point in hypotheticals, is there?”

“Not really.”

An owl flew over them, its white wings glowing against the black sky.

Scorpius cleared his throat. “...so, is that no?”

“What?”

“Do you care that I’m gay, or not?”

Albus rolled over on his side, away from Scorpius. “I told you. It doesn’t matter.”

The trio spent the next week searching through the restricted section, but the only mention they could find was of a woman named Eileen Prince. School got in the way, with the increasing difficulty of N.E.W.T. level classes, and they could barely find time to themselves after class, let alone to pursue this mysterious topic.

Albus didn’t mind not knowing the true identity of the Half Blood Prince. He was simply satisfied with the words the Prince left behind, the legacy in ink that lifted him above anyone else in potions. He stood alone at the top, and it was a glorious view.

And so the book stayed by his side, close to his heart, a friend as constant as the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh i don't like how this chapter turned out. i feel like there was too much telling and not enough showing...i was rushing bc i wanted to publish haha...
> 
> thanks for reading this far! comments and kudos always appreciated!!

**Author's Note:**

> (excuse me while I ignore the part in tcc when albus sucks at potions...)
> 
> hope you enjoyed the first chapter!! comments and kudos are very much appreciated!
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](http://satyrsyd37.tumblr.com/) if you want to talk about scorbus more ;D


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